The Ebony Road
by TC1097
Summary: Tony might have to travel a dangerous dark road in order to help one of his team.
1. Chapter 1

Author: TC1097

Title: The Ebony Road

Genre: Action/Adventure.

Summary: Tony might have to travel a dangerous dark road in order to help one of his team.

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_**The Ebony Road**_

_**Chapter I**_

An unpleasant sound was prodding Anthony DiNozzo out from under a thick blanket of sleep. He allowed the noise to navigate his journey back to alertness. His hearing was the first of the senses to arrive fully in reality. It identified the noise as a ringing and determined that it was coming from the area of his right hand. That didn't make a whole lot of sense though. Why would his right hand be ringing? Skilled investigator that he was he decided that, well, further investigation was in order. His hazy brain managed to deliver a rather sloppy message to his right hand. It was really more the length of a mini post it note than a fully fledged message but it got the job done, resulting in the wiggling of fingers and an eclectic series of movements that might have been loosely classified as fumbling. The fingers made an interesting discovery despite their lack of any strategy. A cell phone was gripped tightly in his hand.

"Don't tell me!" his voice exclaimed, having newly arrived from slumber. His brain switched on another light bulb inside his mind and promptly sent an inquiry to his left hand. Dutifully it carried out orders patting down random spots on the body, first the chest then the leg then his right arm. It confirmed for his brain that, yes indeed, he had once again fallen asleep fully dressed and clutching his cell phone in one hand. He really needed to stop doing that!

During all this sleuthing the ringing had continued. It was curious that voice mail had not picked up yet. Perhaps the caller had hung up and kept dialing back, determined to get more than the recorded version of his charming self that greeted visitors to his voice mail. With his right thumb Tony pried open the cell and then managed to convince his right arm to lift the phone to his ear. He said a silent little prayer that the one percent of his brain that was actually awake wouldn't say anything that would later embarrass the other ninety nine percent once it regained consciousness.

"DiNozzo," he offered to the caller. It was delivered a tad more cheerful sounding than his brain had planned. But his mouth had always been an independent sort.

"DiNozzo!" A faint far away voice responded back.

"Uh. Hmmm? I'm pretty sure I'm DiNozzo. You must be someone else. Any guesses?" he encouraged and strained to listen for the distant voice to return.

"DiNozzo. It's…" the reply finally came but he cut it off before this little circular game could continue any longer.

"Didn't we cover this already? _Me_ DiNozzo. _Youuu_…?" he inquired and waited for the caller to fill in the blank.

"Tony. It's McGee."

"McGee, you sound very…uh…long ago in a galaxy far, far away-_ish_. Is the Elf Lord perhaps off visiting with the Ewoks or taking a spin in the Millennium Falcon?"

"Doubtful there are any Ewoks here. But I am certain of one thing."

"What's that McGee?"

"I'm in serious trouble."

And with those words the other ninety nine percent of Anthony DiNozzo's brain arrived on the scene, mental light bars flashing away and intellectual sirens blaring. It arrived with such a reckless screeching halt that it startled his body into unorganized fast forward motion. Luckily the fact that he was newly awake lessened the impact of his fall off the couch onto the floor below. Physical grogginess buffered the blow.

"And we're going to get you out of it. Where are you?" Tony instantly responded from his new location sprawled out on the hardwood surface of his living room floor.

When no response filtered back to his ears Tony's head popped up to attention from its resting spot against the cool wood floor.

"McGee? McGee? Are you there?" he begged.

Only white noise answered his pleas.

"Tim! Answer me!"

_To Be Continued… _


	2. Chapter 2

Author: TC1097

Title: The Ebony Road

Genre: Action/Adventure.

Summary: Tony might have to travel a dangerous dark road in order to help one of his team.

_scousemuzlk_—Be careful what you wish for! Longer chapters? Are you sure? I'm known in other fandoms for being rather long winded. I've had to break up chapters I intended as one chapter into two because they surpassed limitations of the boards where I was posting them (including this one). But, okay, if you're sure. Here's a longer chapter. And thanks for the review!

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_**The Ebony Road**_

_**Chapter II**_

"Tim! Answer me!"

Once again his plea went unfulfilled.

Tony pulled the phone away from his ear, just for an instant, to glance at the screen and confirm that the call had not been disconnected. Relieved to find the line linking them together still open he placed the phone back against his ear. Unlike a moment earlier there were sounds of life coming for the other end of the call. He listened intently. A faint scuffling sound, a harsh _thwack_, and then a louder rustling sound tumbled one after another from the far off place where his teammate seemed to be located.

"McGee! I'm going to help you but I need to know where you are."

His reassurance was rewarded with a low groan from the other end of the line.

"Are you with me McGee? You're not hurt are you?" he asked. The groan had been both music to his ears and disconcerting. The sound had meant that McGee was still with him, but at the same time it had been unusually low and almost pained.

"I…uh…I'm not sure. Tony, I feel…kind of…strange." The younger agent's distant voice finally came back over the line. It sounded like he was in a tunnel. Maybe more accurate he sounded like he was in a submarine at the bottom of the Mediterranean Sea. Why was their connection so tenuous? So infuriatingly pathetic?

"Like injured strange or drugged out of your mind strange?" Tony asked despite not truly liking either option.

"I don't know. Everything is kind of…out of whack. Kind of surreal."

The words came over the line weaker than McGee's earlier ones. A little slurred and laced with growing fear. Tony had heard that buildup of fear in McGee's voice a few times before, not recently, but it didn't matter he knew it well enough to recognize it. His teammate was headed down the road into panicking.

"Where are you McGee? I'll come get you."

"Oh god! This is not good." The younger agent spat out but the words were more to himself than his teammate.

"McGee?" Tony tossed out loudly, demanding the other man's attention be focused back to him.

"Tony, I have absolutely no idea where I am! I don't understand how I got here."

"Don't worry about the how right now. Focus on the where, McGee."

"Uh…uh…" McGee's voice stuttered out. He sounded thoroughly lost. Not just physically either. Tony wondered how much longer McGee would be responsive. His teammate seemed to be fading in and out of being able to hold the conversation. More likely he was altered somehow, by injury, toxins, or by being under duress.

Tony propelled himself up off the floor to a standing position, phone still pressed to his right ear. His mind may have been thoroughly engaged now but apparently his legs remained half asleep. Managing to get them coordinated just enough to be set in motion he half stumbled half scrambled around his coffee table and across the living room towards his land line phone. If McGee couldn't tell him where he was then maybe their open phone connection could be informative. He snatched up the handset to his landline phone and cradled it between his left ear and his shoulder. With his left hand he began to dial NCIS headquarters.

"I'm calling into headquarters to get a GPS fix on your cell. Stay with me okay, McGee."

"No! No! Tony you can't do that!" the younger agent's panicked voice pleaded just as Tony was about to hit the last digit into the phone's number pad. Tony halted the motion and let his index finger hover over the button. Then he responded with all the calmness he could muster.

"You don't know where you are. And I most certainly don't know where you are, except that by the sound of our connection you quite possibly might be in a submarine at the bottom of the Mediterranean Sea or in the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel, but other than that I got nothing. So GPS is our next move. After that I call Gibbs."

"No! No! No! Don't do that!"

"McGee, now is no time for embarrassment."

"It…it's not that. This is very important. No one else can know."

"McGee…"

"No Tony. It could be really...bad. You can't tell anyone."

Underneath the surface of his teammate's panicked voice there was something worse, a certainty in his protest. Tony swallowed down hard and shifted his gaze towards his fingertips as they remained poised over the keypad on his landline phone. One more number and he could have McGee's location.

"Tony, did you hear me? You can't tell anyone please!" a desperate whisper begged him. The certainty with which the younger agent was speaking spilled through Tony, churning up his gut, and finally landing in his left index finger which instead of hitting that last number diverted its course and hit the release button at the top of the phone. The terrifying decision had been made. He and Tim were on their own.

"Okay, alright, but then I need you to focus McGee. Look around and see what you can see. Maybe we can figure out where you are. While you do that I'm going to head over to headquarters. See if I can wrangle up that GPS trace on your phone."

"Tony, I'm really not feeling right. I'm trying to look…but nothing is the way it should be."

"Hang in there McGee. I'm not done super gluing your finger to pieces of office equipment quite yet. So we'll have you back at that federally issued keyboard of yours in no time."

The remark earned Tony another groan. This time it held a trace of annoyance and for some reason that made a smile seep onto his face.

"Tim, I need to know. Do you have your weapon?" Tony asked, simultaneously and silently praying that the answer would be in the positive. Ten seconds of waiting while Tony stared at the clock on the wall across the room. Three thirty five in the am. No response. Twenty seconds he waited for a reply and nothing arrived. Forty seconds he waited for a reply and silently encouraged _Come on Tim! Just let me know you're still there!_ _I'll take anything, a peep, a squeak, even an insult. Just give me something._

But none of those things ever came.

"McGee?"

Still nothing.

Tony pulled the phone from his ear once again briefly to peek at the screen and check the connection. He was grateful to find the link intact. It also thrust him back into action. He returned the phone to his ear and hurriedly made his way back around the coffee table, grabbing his coat from where it was slung over the back of the couch. His badge would be in one of the pockets. So would his keys. Spinning back around he scooped up his weapon off the coffee table then made a beeline for the door. Once there he juggled all the items that occupied his hands in order to open the door, slip out into the hallway, and then lock the door behind him. But only three strides lengths down the corridor he realized something was missing. He halted and consulted the mental checklist. _Cell phone. Badge. Keys. Coat._ The forgotten item popped into his mind and he about faced, marched back to his apartment door, and inserted the key once again. An instant later he popped back into his living room and began a visual search.

"Shoes! Need shoes!" he mumbled to himself as he scanned the room.

"Aha!" he exclaimed upon seeing them sticking out form underneath the couch. He rushed to their location and clumsily stuffed his feet in. Before heading back outside Tony made another attempt to get a response from his teammate.

"McGee? I'm heading out to headquarters right now. You hear me? I'm on the way."

A long string of seconds passed as Tony listened attentively. Time awarded him nothing but dead air. Practically inside the next breath he was out of his apartment, along the hallway, down the stairwell, and outside into the cool night air of October. A few more brisk strides later and he was in his car, bringing the engine roaring to life. He had tucked the cell phone in between his ear and shoulder in order to insert the key in the ignition and start the car. Now reluctantly he grasped the phone again with his right hand, hit the button for speaker phone, and set the cell in the cup holder for safe keeping.

Tony drove in a very Gibbs-like manner towards the naval yard, foot pressed down mercilessly against the gas pedal and with a total lack of regard for traffic laws. Tony pondered for an instant if Gibbs had a secret rule about driving, something perhaps along the lines of _Disregard rules of the road at will or as necessary_. Unlike with Ziva's driving Tony suspected that Gibbs actually knew the rules of the road but simply did not embrace them. Tony wasn't sure that Ziva even noticed things like double yellow lines and stop signs. Considering the driving habits of that fifty percent of the team it was a miracle that the other fifty percent of the team, himself and McGee, had not become traffic accident statistics long ago. Apparently miracles did happen.

In any regard Tony wasn't embracing many of those traffic laws at the moment himself, but priorities were what they were in this instance. Careening around the arc of the last turn into the naval yard he finally let up on the gas pedal. He would have no choice but to waste a few precious seconds dealing with the guard at the main gate. He pulled up beside the guard house and pressed down on the brake.

"Hey Agent DiNozzo! Late one huh? Or is it an early one?" the guard greeted him. If Tony recalled correctly the man's name was Richardson and was he a bit of a talker. The up side of that was that the guard knew him so he wouldn't have to waste time with id and formality. On the other hand, he didn't really have time for social hour so he would have to make it clear he wasn't in a chatty kind of mood.

"Either way it's not a good one!" Tony replied inside a grumbling tone.

"Sorry to hear that!" Richardson offered.

"That makes two of us!" he snapped back.

"I hope things look up soon!" the guard responded and gave a wave of the hand towards the other side of the gate, indicating that the agent was clear to enter into the yard.

"Yes, well, here's hoping." Tony tossed back. The sentiment meant more than the guard would ever know.

"That quite possibly may have been the shortest conversation I've ever had with that man," Tony commented to himself. Perhaps he had grumbled a little more intensely than he had initially planned on. He would make it up to Richardson after this was over, perhaps ask about the wife and kids or inquire if he had seen the game last night. It was never wise to have the guards ticked at you. It had a tendency to result in sudden mix-ups and concocted delays at the gate. And, in turn, head slaps from Gibbs when you were late as a result.

_Gibbs._ He wished he could call the boss. He denied himself thinking about the reason behind why McGee was so insistent that making that call would result in bad things. What he did allow himself to ponder was a question that had suddenly reared its head up in his mind. _Why had McGee called him first and not Gibbs?_

The longer the question simmered in his brain the more undesirable answers presented themselves. He decided it might be best to refocus back to the task at hand.

Parking went considerably faster and closer to the building in the small hours of the morning. Only a handful of minutes after coming through the main gate he was inside NCIS headquarters.

Unwilling to wait upon the elevator or risk encountering someone he did not wish to run into while waiting for the elevator Tony chose to take the stairs. He jogged up the steps, only slowing his pace when he reached the doorway that lead out onto the floor. Once he passed over the threshold his gait was brisk but not urgent enough to draw undesired scrutiny. The late hour, or the early hour as the guard at the gate had put it, meant the place was practically a ghost town. But Tony knew better then to let his guard down. People around NCIS headquarters seemed to have a talent for sneaking up on you at the most inopportune moments. Especially one grouchy coffee addicted agent in particular.

Tony's gaze darted around the expanse of the floor as he made his way to his desk. It was seemingly empty which Tony was grateful for at the moment.

He slipped into to the chair at his station and hit the power button on his computer. While waiting for it to boot up he again took the cell phone from his ear and inspected its screen. The line was open, but it looked like the charge on his phone was waning. His gaze shot to the computer screen. It was still running the automatic scans it went through upon each start up. He held his breath and silently commanded the machine to hurry. He wanted to be able to tell McGee where exactly he was before they were disconnected in case there might be help close by that the younger agent could get to or even just reassure him Tony had a fix on his location. Finally the log in screen popped up. Tony put the cell to his ear again. If McGee could hear him he had to let him know that soon they would no longer be connected by the open line.

"Tim. I'm at headquarters. I'm getting the GPS information as we speak. But my phone charge is running out so if I drop off the line that's why. Make sure to leave your phone on. I'll be there as soon as I can. I promise I'll drive like Gibbs. Hang in there! I'm coming."

He listened for a few seconds, not really expecting a response at this point, but doing it just in case. He had attempted to get a response from his teammate several times while he had the cell on speaker phone in the car. None of the attempts had yielded any results. This attempt was no different.

Tony placed the cell on the desk and hastily logged into the computer. Then he kept right on going as quickly as the limits of the system would allow him. Finally he had entered in the information needed to run a trace on the GPS on McGee's cell phone and set the computer to work on the task.

The image of McGee's darkened empty desk had haunted the far edge of his peripheral vision as he had worked. Now he seemed no longer able to refuse to acknowledge its presence. He let his gaze wander over to the desk and the orderly belongings that decorated its surface. The chair was pushed up tightly against the desk the way McGee made sure it was before departing each day. When Tony came and went throughout the day it was how he knew whether the younger agent had left yet. If it was turned slightly askew to one side or the other or pushed back away from the edge of the desk Special Agent Tim McGee was still in attendance somewhere in the building.

The emptiness of that chair stabbed relentlessly into Tony. It carried along with it an ugly thought. Anger chased close at the thought's heels as it raced it through his mind though. Tony chastised himself for allowing the thought to even dare to cross his mind. It was an unacceptable concept. But his mind grasped onto it despite his attempt to halt it. _What would it be like to come in every morning and have to face that empty chair?_

He would just have to make sure that never came to pass. He had to get McGee out of this, whatever this was, unscathed. Once he brought him back safe and sound he just might have to throttle him for getting into it in the first place.

Tony wondered what had been Tim's motivation for applying and, ultimately, joining NCIS. There were so many other avenues he could have traveled down. So many paths he could have embarked upon that could have led to more prestigious destinations. Although knowing McGee he probably had been endlessly recruited while still a student studying computer forensics at MIT. His book smarts and technical skills had more than likely done the applying and persuading for him. It certainly was not his social skills that landed him at the NCIS team. Had it perhaps been his father's occupation that edged him in this particular direction?

That idea led to the wonderment of how McGee's parents and little sister had reacted when he had told them of his job offer with NCIS. Their Timmy was going to be a federal agent? What Tony would have given to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation at the McGee family dinner table?

Tony searched his memories. Had Tim ever mentioned anything along those lines? He was a bit disheartened when he came up empty handed for any answers inside his memory. Usually he was very skilled at retrieving this type of information if he had it tucked away in some cobwebbed corner of his brain. But for the life of him he could not pull out anything useful this time around. Tony hoped that it wasn't the case that his teammate had in fact mentioned these things and that he simply had not been paying enough attention to what the younger agent had been saying to retain it.

He let out a heavy sad sigh.

Gibbs would certainly have remembered. So would Ziva and Abby for that matter. Ducky probably would have regaled them with at least one story on the subject. Even Palmer may have come up with some relevant tidbit.

Tony bit down hard on his lower lip as frustration welled up inside him. Timothy McGee had a way of embedding himself under your skin without even trying. He seemed to take great pleasure in seizing opportunities to show off his smarts and make everyone else pale in comparison. It was aggravating to say the least.

At the same time Tim was honest, well intentioned, fair, and unaware how rare it was to be genuinely that way. Tony had experienced a pang of something, protectiveness perhaps, anytime someone had attempted to steal away any shred of that endearing quality from his teammate.

"Damn it McMissing!" he snapped out and gave a harsh blow with his fist to the top of his desk. His keyboard and pencil holder jumped up from their places as the jolt of it ripped through the surface of the desk. The keyboard landed well but the pencil holder toppled over, spilling its contents out onto the desk and the floor. He started to bend down to pick them up when his phone let out a chirp and, therefore, diverted his attention. He knew what it meant but picked up the cell anyway and looked at the screen. The phone was alerting him that its charge had been drained and it was about to go dark.

He stared at the screen as it beeped several more warnings at him. Then the screen that displayed the number he was in touch with flashed and disappeared. The thin thread of a connection that had tied him to McGee was gone. The phone chirped out softly once more time and went dark.

He realized that even if he called McGee's number on the land line it was unlikely that the young agent would be able to answer it. He would charge his cell in the car and give it a try anyway.

Tony hung his head, held his breath, and closed the cell phone. Just as he did so his computer let out an attention grabbing sound of its own. Tony's head shot up and he frantically scanned the map displayed on the monitor. The program had managed to retrieve the information from McGee's cell phone only seconds after the connection had been lost. He wasn't able to let McGee know where he was but at least he had been able to find him.

Tony let his gaze focus thankfully upward, out through the skylights, for a moment and released the breath he had been keeping captive. He had feared that he might lose the chance at GPS fix if McGee's cell phone had died or in quite possibly that in his seemingly disoriented state he would inadvertently shut it off.

"Alright, let's see what we've got!" he tossed out to the open air of the bullpen. He studied the map, first seeing the indicator that pinpointed the phone's location then went about connecting that with his own present location.

"What the heck are you doing all the way over there, McGee?" he commented after it took him a long string of seconds to link the two locations to one another. But, ultimately, he decided he would take what he could get and printed the map. As it was printing Tony stood up and glanced around the floor, ensuring he had remained unnoticed. Well, unnoticed except for the security cameras which he was sure soon enough Abby would be reviewing. Tony looked straight into the nearest one and mouthed the words _Sorry. No choice_.

Then he looked back down towards his work station and grabbed the map from his printer. Scooping up his now dead cell from his desk he placed both items in his coat pocket. Glancing at the clock on his computer monitor he saw it was now past four in the morning.

The boss would be marching out of the elevator in a mere few hours. It wouldn't be long after that that he would know something was up. McGee's punctuality would give it away just as it had the last time he had found trouble. It would take slightly longer for the red flags to go up in regards to Tony himself given his track record of being fashionably late. Then again his fashionably late style had a track record all of its own and it wasn't a good one. He might be able to buy a little time though. He picked up the handset of the phone on his desk and dialed Gibb's desk.

An automated voice answered.

"You have the reached the voicemail of," and then the boss' voice followed after a pause, "Agent Gibbs!" then back to the recorded voice, "Press one to leave a message."

Tony hit the button marked one and prayed that one of these days McGee would finally convince their boss to record a real message. Automated voice lady had grown old years ago.

"Please leave a message after the tone."

Tony took in a breath and blew it out heavily while waiting for the sound which indicated recording had begun. He hoped the exhale would help rid his voice of any hint something was up. Finally the beep arrived.

"Hey boss! It's DiNozzo. I'm going to be just a tad late. Got an appointment I forgot about. Be in as soon as humanly possible. DiNozzo out."

His tone had come across upbeat and casual, but not too casual, so Tony felt it might buy him a small window of time. But then there was McGee. How to buy time there?

He pondered that while closing out the program and logging off the computer so it wouldn't be noticed right away what he had been up to doing. An idea did come to him. It involved a skill he had practiced quite a bit and was also one he was fairly certain nobody on his team was aware he possessed.

With the computer shut down he went about completing the task that might buy a little time on McGee's tardiness. In addition there were one or two other tasks that might be useful and completed those as well.

Tony glanced one final time over at McGee's empty chair. With his gaze fixed on the image he drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly.

Tony DiNozzo had come to an unbendable decision.

He didn't care for the image of that darkened empty desk at all. If that chair remained empty it meant that the team had lost one of its members and although he was unlikely to admit it aloud it also meant that he would have lost a good friend.

Turning his back on the sight Tony departed the bullpen and set out to find and bring back Special Agent Timothy McGee come hell or high water.

_**To Be Continued…**_


	3. Chapter 3

Author: TC1097

Title: The Ebony Road

Genre: Action/Adventure.

Summary: Tony might have to travel a dangerous dark road in order to help one of his team.

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_**The Ebony Road**_

_**Chapter III**_

Tony's fingertips tugged slightly at the steering wheel, guiding his car to pull to the right. The vehicle's tires announced their departure from the pavement with the crunch that comes when inflated rubber meets the dirt along the side of the road. Hitting the brake and shifting into park he then switched on his hazards to alert others of his presence there. Not that the dark two lane rural route had produced a single other car in a long string of miles but better safe than sorry, or for that matter better safe than dead should someone come barreling by and clip his car. One of his fellow police academy classmates had perished that way not long after their graduation day. Tony had seen the aftermath and it was not a fate that he cared to meet especially since his demise could seal McGee's fate in turn.

Scooping up the mini flashlight and map from where he had stored them on the passenger seat he blew out the breath he had not realized he had been holding captive. A fresh inhale helped clear away some of the unwanted thoughts muddying his mind. He turned on the light and skimmed its beam over the assortment of thin, medium, and thick lines that were inked onto the paper. During an earlier look at the GPS printout he had noted that there was a turn somewhere along this road that he needed to take. He would rather spend a few seconds now consulting the map before he got there then waste too much time backtracking when he missed the turn he needed.

Tony retraced the miles of highway and rural routes he had covered. The illumination from the flashlight beam skimmed along over the northwest line of trajectory that had originated back in D.C..

Finally coming upon his present location he placed his fingertips on the map's surface and followed the line of the rural route until it turned more truly westward than northwest. It was there he relocated the faint line that indicated the road he needed to follow according to the GPS mapping. By the looks of it Old Granite Hill Road barely qualified as a road. A quick consult with the map's legend revealed that it lay only a few more miles away.

Clicking off the flashlight Tony tossed it and the map back into the seat beside him. Lifting his gaze upwards he scanned his surroundings outside the car. Not a single vehicle was in sight on the country road. Despite the headlights from his own car Tony could tell the sky was beginning to change, the shift in its hue hinted at dawn's approach. He had done his best Gibbs driving impression but still it had taken time to cover all those miles.

He looked down again and picked up his now freshly charged cell phone from the cup holder where he had stored it. He opened it and hit the button that would automatically dial McGee's number. A series of rings came from the other end of the line but the only version of his teammate's voice that followed was the recorded one.

Tony snapped the phone shut and stuffed it in his coat pocket quite a bit more roughly than was necessary. A slushy mixture of frustration and unwanted thoughts about potential outcomes swirled around inside his mind. He attempted to shove it away with movement by shifting the car back into gear and tearing off down the pavement once again.

Twenty minutes and a right turn later found him nearly on top of his destination.

Light was just beginning to seep into the sky overhead as Tony made his way on foot through the woods alongside the dirt road. He was grateful though for the cover the remaining darkness afforded him. Aware that he was getting very close and uncertain what he might encounter when he arrived Tony had stashed the car behind a cluster of bushes a few hundred yards back down the road.

The faint glow of daybreak did allow Tony to see further down the road a piece. The grayish light made the row of white rectangular buildings stand out against the still darkened forest in the background.

Covering another few yards to where he had a better line of sight Tony finally stopped moving. From his lookout spot hidden behind some overgrowth he watched and listened for a few long moments.

All the while praying he was alone as he seemed to be.

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Leroy Jethro Gibbs took the stairs this particular morning. Some days were elevator days and some were stairwell days. He never thought about his course beforehand. His feet simply took him one way or another without consulting his mind and that suited him just fine. He would arrive in the squad room regards of the method.

He made the turn into his team's pod of desks and went directly to his own. It did not surprise him to see he was the first arrival. The absence of the tell tale chitter chatter of voices or keyboards had given it way long before his actual arrival.

A note taped to his monitor awaited him when he settled into his seat. He reached up and pulled it down. Before reading its contents he let his gaze shift to the bottom of the page in search of the name of the person who had authored it. He preferred knowing the _who_ before the _what_ when it came to notes. This one was penned by McGee, informing him that he had been in early to do some maintenance on the team's computers but just after arriving had received a call from his sister whose car had broken down. He stated that he was going to go help her out and would return once she was all set. Gibbs gave a nod of agreement to the message and crumbled up the piece of paper inside his fist.

Discarding the now balled up note into his trash can Gibbs glanced briefly in the direction of the phone on his desk, noting that the red light whose job it was to alert him when he had a new message was blinking at a sluggish but steady tempo. Deciding he had not had nearly enough coffee yet to deal with voicemail he returned his attention to his computer. He reached over and pressed the power button on it inward.

"Gibbs, you are here?" Ziva's surprised voice inquired as she arrived from the elevator.

"It's that obvious is it, David?"

"That is not what I am meaning."

The only response given her came in the form of a classic Gibbs style _I'm verging of being annoyed_ expression.

"It is just that I was surprised because this is not our usual order I have come to know. It is normally McGee I find when I arrive."

"Expectation will surprise you if you let it," Gibbs commented and went about logging onto his computer. Ziva set her bag down beside her desk and then settled in her chair. She did not stay silent for long though.

"Did McGee have a day off I was not aware of?" she asked. She did not care for being outside the scoop-no-outside the loop.

"Nope."

"Did you send him on an errand then?"

"Nope."

"Then where is he?"

"Not here!" her team lead stated flatly as he shifted his attention from his computer to a stack of folders on his desk without so much as looking up at her.

"I do not understand. If he does not have the day off and you did not send him on an errand is he not late?"

"Nope."

"But he is not here."

To this Gibbs simply rose from his desk, nearly empty coffee in hand, and headed towards the elevator.

"Sister's car broke down. He went to get her!" he informed his agent as he breezed past her desk.

"Oh. Now this makes more sense," he heard her say, mostly to herself.

Gibbs went casually about his tasks. He acquired a refill on his coffee, touched base with the director, journeyed down to autopsy where he followed up on an old case and endured not one but two of Ducky's epic length tales before setting out back in the direction of the squad room.

Ziva's fingers typing furiously on her keyboard was the sole sound that came out of the team's pod as he approached. Before he was within Ziva's sight he glanced at the time. Quite a lengthy period had elapsed since he had left his desk and still McGee had not returned. Not to mention DiNozzo was now verging upon being late-even for him.

"Call McGee. Get his ETA!" he demanded from Ziva as he passed her desk on the way to his own.

Gibbs plopped down into his desk chair and swiveled in the direction of the landline on his desk. He took a long sip of his coffee and then picked up the handset of the phone. Reluctantly he pressed the button for voicemail, punched in his access code, and waited for the recorded voice. He hated voice mail. McGee had incessantly bugged him to record a greeting of some kind so that when people called and got his voice mail he could greet them more kindly. What had McGee called it? A voicemail greeting? No. A personal message. That had been it. Gibbs preferred to call it a pointless message. McGee had even provided him with a script and detailed written instructions on how to go about recording it on the phone. If Gibbs recalled correctly he had used both sheets of paper as napkins to sop up spilt coffee one day. McGee had offered new copies. Gibbs had declined by sending him a piercing glare. Interestingly, McGee had not mentioned it since.

Finally the recorded voice arrived.

"You have one new message. To listen to the message press one."

Gibbs slammed his fingertip into the button marked one on his phone.

"Hey boss! It's DiNozzo. I'm going to be just a tad late. Got an appointment I forgot about. Be in as soon as humanly possible. DiNozzo out."

_Oh but you won't forget the head slap I'm going to give you when you do get here. _Gibbs responded inside his head.

"David!" he demanded out loud as he hung up the phone.

"I was not able to reach McGee. I have left him a message."

"And DiNozzo?"

"I did not call Tony. Should I have?"

"Do you see him here?"

"Gibbs, you know that I do not."

"There's your answer then."

Ziva scrambled to pick up her phone and punch in Tony's cell number. After a few seconds she hit a button on the collection of buttons on her phone then dialed another number into the number keypad. A handful of seconds after that she hung up the phone.

"He is not answering on his cell or at home."

"Keep trying. Check places they may have stopped on their way here and anywhere else you can think of," he instructed in a now more gentle tone.

"Should I call McGee's sister? Perhaps he is still with her?" Ziva asked, not quite concerned but with piqued curious clearly playing in her face expression. She could tell the gears in her boss' head were working on something.

"Not necessary," he responded as casual as possible. It was enough to get Ziva to return her attention to her phone and computer.

The sense that something was off was slowly creeping up inside Gibbs. He wasn't sure exactly what though. DiNozzo's voicemail had not been unlike many of his others over the years. His voice had been calm and casual, lacking any red flags. McGee had left a note explaining his whereabouts. The reason for his absence was logical and the behavior noted was consistent with McGee's personality.

But there was something, a wisp of something askew, that made Gibbs glance over at the two empty desks across from him. Shifting his gaze downward he stared into the trash can underneath his desk for a moment of ponder. Then finally reached now and scooped up the crumbled up note and slipped it into his pocket.

"Back in a few!" he called over his shoulder to Ziva as he headed for the elevator. And true to his word he returned to his desk a few short moments late.

And waited.

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Special Agent Tony DiNozzo darted swiftly across the exposed gap between the side of the building and the next object that might offer some level of protection. Covering the distance at a dead run he arrived safely and dropped to a squat behind the pile of tires that stood halfway between the two warehouses. He listened for a moment and upon hearing nothing harmful peeked cautiously around the tower of Goodyears. After a visual survey of the area he rose from a crouched position and took off running again. A few seconds later he had covered the distance and was leaned up the wall at the corner of the next warehouse. He took in a few greed breaths and then continued on to the doorway.

After entering the third building much in the same manner he had the first two, silently and with his weapon drawn, Tony stuck close to the wall as he searched. He had discovered nothing of real interest in the previous two warehouses and there were still two more to go after this one.

Tony's eyes finally fully adjusted to the dimness of the room. Most of the windows in the building were either boarded up or were caked with so many layers of dirt that little in the way of daylight managed to filter in through them.

Shadows played amongst the mountains of clutter strewn about the first room. Tony fingertips curled a little more snugly around his weapon each time they shifted his way.

The other buildings had been in the same abandoned state of disarray. It made for endless places for someone to hide and not be seen until you were practically right on top of them. If someone was laying in wait there would be only slim opportunity to react.

Reaching the far end of the room Tony picked his way around a pile of scrap engine parts that filled the corner and took up position against the wall once again. Three quarters of the way down towards to the next corner a door stood partially open. Tony inched along the wall, eyes trained on the doorway and weapon at the ready.

He moved painstakingly forward, making certain to place each footfall with great care as not to make a sound that would alert anyone to his approach. Spare the wind creating a faint whistling as it tussled with the old walls and windows of the building the stillness went undisturbed.

Finally reaching within arm's length of the door Tony stopped and prepared himself. He had been through this in the other buildings without incident but it only took one instant of complacency to meet the end of your life.

He took a breath in and released it slowly. Before the next inhale he was in motion, making entry into the room. It was smaller and even dimmer than the outer one. Tony's brain struggled frantically to convince his vision to adjust to the darkness. A few feet inside the threshold stood a tall pile of boxes. Tony ducked quickly behind the slight cover they provided just as a sound came from deeper inside the room.

He listened for a few seconds. There was definitely movement in the opposite back corner of the room. His vision seemed to be resolving its issues with the dimness which Tony was grateful for, but he had a decision to make. Stay hidden a while longer hedging that he had not been discovered and gather more information or announce himself as law enforcement and deal with whatever that brought down upon him. Tony had stashed the mini flashlight in his coat pocket before abandoning his car and he retrieved it now. He held it in his left hand with his finger rested on the power button but not applying any pressure to it just yet. With the light securely grasped in his left and his firearm gripped tightly in the right Tony went with option number two.

"Federal agent!" he called out as he moved clear of the boxes. Immediately he switched the flashlight on sending a harsh light out towards the back of the room. The beam's brightness would work double fold, destroying the night vision of anyone on the receiving end of the beam and masking Tony's movements and form at the same time.

A heartbeat of silence followed.

Then from the far corner of the room another slight noise and the shifting of a shadow.

"Federal agent! Come out now! And I want to see hands up!" he commanded loudly.

Then the stillness filled back in.

Short of options Tony made his way briskly through a maze of boxes and debris towards the back corner of the room. With the flashlight beam he investigated every shadow and searched the darkness as he went along.

Tony had made it nearly to the far back corner when the beam from his flashlight landed on an item that halted his progress. With a slight shift of the beam to the right he realized what he had found.

"Oh my god McGee!"

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"What do you have for me Abs?" Gibbs inquired as he entered her lab trailed closely by Ziva. In response the scientist lowered the volume of her music a few thousand notches, accepted a Caf Pow from Gibbs, and then gestured a hand in the direction of the large screen on the wall. Both Gibbs and Ziva's gaze followed her navigation. A greatly magnified image of McGee's message to Gibbs was displayed there.

"A note that is not what it appears to be!" she announced.

"What is it then?" Ziva inquired.

"It's a really good fake!"

"A fake?" Gibbs snapped. His tone was laced with irritation. When he read the note it had certainly looked like McGee's familiar neat penmanship. When he had given it to Abby earlier that was not the result he had expected to hear.

"Yes. It would appear that Tony has mad skills we were completely unaware of!" Abby informed them.

"So he keeps insisting!" Ziva commented.

"No I'm serious. This note may look like it was written by McGee but it wasn't. Tony wrote it. Fingerprints and a few other neat tricks confirm it."

"Tony wrote that?" Gibbs questioned in disbelief. The note was easily readable. Tony's usual scrawl, on the other hand, was not. Abby nodded her head in the positive at him then explained further.

"Yep. Tony forged McGee's handwriting and did a really good job. He even wrote it left handed like McGee. That took like mucho practice to be able do."

"I wonder when he learned how to do that?" Ziva pondered out loud. Gibbs jumped on the question quickly, responding with a bite to his tone.

"No! The question, David, is why in the hell is Tony writing fake notes to make it look like McGee wrote them?"

"That is the million dollar question. Color me impressed though!" Abby commented.

"Impressed? Why?" Ziva asked her.

"When I first began comparing this to a verified sample from McGee I was a little lost as to why you gave it to me to look at in the first place. It looked like McGee's normal handwriting even after I studied it. So I thought maybe there might be an additional set of prints to McGee's, some other trace evidence, DNA maybe, and that that might unlock the mystery. So I ran every test I could think of. Only prints on the paper are Tony's. Which was odd but then it occurred to me maybe if McGee was wearing latex gloves when he wrote it and Tony handled the paper at some point that would cover that angle. Couldn't find any trace of latex and anything else from gloves though. So I went back to the handwriting. I noticed one or two things that looked a little hinky. Just to be certain I sent it to a friend of mine who is a handwriting guru and he compared it to the verified sample from McGee as well as one from Tony. It was close but a few barely perceivable right handed tendencies and personal idiosyncrasies gave Tony away even though he wrote it with his left hand."

"Good catch Abby," Gibbs offered quietly.

"So I passed, right?" Abby asked, a proud grin filling her face.

"Passed what, Abs?"

"Wait! This isn't a test?"

"What do you mean Abby?" Ziva jumped in with in an attempt to help. A confused looked washed over the Goth's face as she looked from Ziva over to Gibbs. He remained silently so she spoke instead.

"I thought you gave me this as a test. Ya know to keep my forensic super powers sharp. By the way where is Tony? I really want to discuss his forgery skills with him. Get all the juicy details of how that came to be."

"Unfortunately, this is not a test Abby." Gibbs answered in a hushed voice.

"That's not really what I wanted to hear."

"Wish I could tell you different."

"What's going on?" Abby demanded, placing her hands on her hips and adopting a stern expression. Ziva was the one to break the news.

"Tony and McGee did not arrive this morning. Gibbs told me Tony left a voice mail saying he had an appointment he forgot about and would be in as soon as possible. And that note was left taped to Gibbs' computer monitor. We cannot reach either Tony or McGee by phone."

"GPS on both of them Abby," Gibbs requested, leaving no time for the information to be taken to heart by Abby.

"Right! On it!" she replied and began working her keyboard feverishly.

"Uh oh." Abby muttered after a moment of intense effort at the computer.

'That's not what I want to hear Abby."

"It's just…"

"What?" Gibbs asked rather mechanically.

"McGee's phone. It isn't coming up."

"What would cause it to not come up?" Ziva questioned.

"Removal of the GPS chip or complete destruction of the phone."

"What about Tony's?" Gibbs inquired.

"A little more luck there. I think I have a signal on his."

"I don't need luck Abby. I need to know where my agents are!"

"I'm working on it."

Gibbs let his gaze drift from the flustered face of the forensics expert to the screen on the wall. That feeling that had been creeping up inside his body was now racing flat out through his mind. Tony going to the lengths of forging a note from McGee and now McGee's phone no longer had GPS capability, if any capability at all. Not to even the mention the two desks upstairs that had remained empty the entire morning.

"Got it!" Abby's voice announced as a flashing arrow appeared overlaid on the map that was displayed on the screen.

"Abby, can this be correct? That he is way over there?" Ziva asked.

"Yep. That's where his phone says his is!" Abby confirmed without turning away from her computer. Her voice was immediately followed by the team leader's instructions.

"Print the map Abby. Ziva get the gear. I'll meet you at the car."

Ziva nodded in understanding and departed the lab. The map was feeding out of the printer but Abby had not moved from her position in front of the computer. Her gaze stared intently at the screen that showed the map. Her eyes held a hint of moisture and her facial features were strained with an attempt not to let fear show up there.

A moment of silence passed between them. Then without turning around to face Gibbs Abby spoke softly.

"This is bad isn't it? I mean Tony is faking notes to you. McGee's phone has no GPS. And they aren't here like they are supposed to be."

"Abby…"

"No Gibbs. You find them and bring them back here."

"I plan on it. But I need your help to do it."

"What can I do?" she begged and finally turned to face him.

"Well for starters. In order for DiNozzo to leave me that forgery he actually had to be in the building after I left here last night."

"Security cameras!" Abby spat out gleefully.

"Let me know what you find as soon as you find it."

"The instant I have it. I promise."

Abby dove into her work and Gibbs slipped out of the lab doorway. In the empty hallway outside he stopped just for a moment and hung his head.

His gut cried out a warning to him, one that his mind refused to accept.

_Find them fast or you might not find them at all._

_**To Be Continued…**_


End file.
